


Can't Have a Rainbow Without a Little Rain

by under_hongseoks_toe



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Opposites Attract, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26404306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_hongseoks_toe/pseuds/under_hongseoks_toe
Summary: Jung Wooyoung was bold - always one to follow his dreams and throw criticism to the wind. Choi San was everything but - more so the type to crumble under the criticisms of others and force his dream to the backseat. When the two meet by chance (and the help of a little girl) they realize they could stand to learn a lot from each other.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Where's Your Umbrella?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic so please bare with me. Chapters will start out small but hopefully they'll get longer as I get more confident in my writing. Also please keep in mind that I'm a first year university student so updates may be a little sporadic as I work around assignments. Anyway, hopefully you enjoy my sad attempt at bringing to life an idea which was birthed during a 2am move-in week meltdown.

Wooyoung _hated_ the rain. For the young lilac haired man, it seemed as though precipitation doubled as some kind of bad omen, signifying that something so dark it rivaled the stormy sky, would be coming his way. 

It rained when he was five and his pet goldfish died. At the time, Wooyoung had wanted to bury him outside like he saw in the movies but the mud was too thick to dig a shallow fish grave so he had to settle on flushing his aquatic friend instead. He never got another pet after that.

It rained again when Wooyoung was eleven and he was pushed out of a treehouse. He broke his leg that day and his mother refused to let him play with the neighbour again after the accident. 

When Wooyoung was fourteen and that same neighbour boy who pushed him out of the treehouse decided to kiss him, it was raining. The sky cried along with Wooyoung when the neighbour boy spit in his face as if he weren’t the one to pull Wooyoung in by his shirt collar and plant one on him. When the neighbour boy told Wooyoung’s mom that Wooyoung had forced himself on him, the pitiful fourteen year old could no longer distinguish the loud cracks of thunder from the whip of his father's belt. 

When Wooyoung was eighteen and dropped out of university after less than a semester, it poured like never before. His parents eventually learned to accept the whole gay thing (as long as Wooyoung pinky promised not to act on it), but chosing dance over med school was apparently the last straw. Thus the freshly turned adult was tossed to the streets. All the other times it had rained, Wooyoung never got very wet. Even when he was pushed out of the treehouse his mother had rushed over in seconds with a towel. This time however, Wooyoung was soaked. Maybe if he’d had an umbrella things wouldn’t have been so grey, but alas Wooyoung had wandered the streets in the freezing winter rain for hours. Thankfully, before he could die from the cold, Kang Yeosang, a mere acquaintance at the time, stumbled upon Wooyoung’s pathetic dripping wet state and offered him a place to wait out the rain. The rain stopped but Wooyoung stayed.

Now, three years later, eager to return back to Yeosang’s apartment, which had somehow become _their_ apartment, Wooyoung noticed the familiar pitter patter of a bad omen. 

Locking up the dance studio was always tedious. From sweeping the floors to washing the floor-to-ceiling mirror wall, Wooyoung would try to make it slightly more bearable by blasting music. With a loud enough rhythm pounding in your head, Wooyoung firmly believed you could turn an inch of any mundane thing into a mile of freedom through dance. Perhaps this was why dancing was his dream. After he discovered this, locking up the studio was never tedious again.

On this particular day, the twenty one year old took his sweet time dance-cleaning in a not so subtle attempt at avoiding the cursed weather.

_Buzzt buzzt._

Wooyoung ignored his phone and continued to tango with his broom.

_Buzzt buzzt._

“I swear to god, Yeosang,” Wooyoung sighed, finally whipping out his phone and pressing pause on the stereo. 

_[Skater Bitch]_

_dude r u coming home soon??_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_the gays bought us chicken and beer_

_[Wooyoungie]_

_i'm on my way now_

_[Wooyoungie]_

_just gotta lock the doors_

_[Wooyoungie]_

_also_

_[Wooyoungie]_

_i’m telling mingi and yunho u called them “the gays”_

_[Wooyoungie]_

_when they’re literally our only hetero friends_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_noooooo don’t_

Wooyoung chuckled as he shoved his phone back into his practice duffel. Doing a final visual sweep of the studio, the lilac haired dance instructor turned off the stereo and hit the lights. Locking the door under the safety of the awning was no problem at all, but what came after that was going to be. In typical Wooyoung fashion, the young man was unprepared for the weather, both physically and emotionally. 

“Where’s your umbrella, teacher?” a tiny little voice barely louder than the torrential downpour piqued up somewhere to Wooyoung’s left. Sitting on the bench just beyond the double doors with her knees to her chest, hugging her backpack, was a little girl. 

“Hyejin?” Wooyoung gasped at the sight of the eight year old. “What are you still doing here, your lesson ended over an hour ago.”

Hyejin shot up from her perch and attached herself to Wooyoung’s leg. “I was too afraid of the dark and I don’t have an umbrella,” she sobbed, rubbing her snot all over the young man’s sweatpants. Wooyoung didn’t mind.

“Was someone supposed to come pick you up?” he inquired, patting the little girl’s pitch black hair in a poor attempt at comfort. It seemed to work though, as Hyejin raised her head and wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her pink sweater. 

“My big brother was supposed to come, but I think he forgot,” she explained, still sniffling and wiping at her eyes. Wooyoung continued to pat her hair.

“Do you know his phone number?” Wooyoung asked gently. 

She nodded and told Wooyoung the numbers for him to type into his phone. By the sixth ring, Wooyoung gave up. 

“Do you have anyone else we could call?” 

Hyejin just shook her head and gripped Wooyoung’s leg tighter. 

Before Wooyoung put his phone away he sent a simple text in the group chat.

_[Wooyoungie]_

_change of plans eat without me_

  
  


_[Orange Juice]_

_boo you whore_

_[Yunhoe]_

_I second that_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_more chicken for me i guess_

_[Joong]_

_more berry 4 me_

_[Joong]_

_berry*_

_[Yunhoe]_

_no_

_[Joong]_

_BEER_

_[Orange Juice]_

_NO_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_absolutely not_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_you’ve had enough_

Wooyoung smiled as he tucked his phone away and turned to Hyejin. She was already staring at him.

“Was that your family?” she asked, eyes still glistening with unshed tears and something else the young man couldn’t quite place. 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung laughed. “It was. Now let’s get you home.” 

He took the young girls hand, and because neither of them had umbrellas they ran. 

They ran and they ran, until Hyejin’s little legs couldn’t run anymore. Wooyoung turned around to see the little girl's left hand still clinging to his but her right hand was braced on her knees. 

“Teacher, I can’t run anymore. I'm too tired,” she panted. Wooyoung bent down to eye level and wiped Hyejin’s wet bangs out of her eyes. 

“We’re almost there,” he responded. 

Hyejin’s sharp features broke out into a smile that revealed a couple missing teeth and finally made her look her age again. Without warning she jumped onto Wooyoung’s back. 

“Piggyback ride!” she demanded gleefully, pointing ahead. 

And so, for the first time since before Wooyoung was five, he smiled under the rain. 

*

When Wooyoung finally arrived at the address Hyejin had given him, he was beyond exhausted. She lived pretty close to the studio, which normally would’ve been a blessing but since there were no buses that ran a route so short, the distance ended up being a curse on rainy days. 

Hyejin was still giggling as she climbed down from Wooyoung's back.

“Thank you for walking me home teacher!” she bowed. A smile slipped onto Wooyoung’s features until he remembered why he had to walk her home in the first place.

“Hyejin?” Wooyoung frowned. The little girl dropped her hand from the door knob, and turned back towards her dance teacher. “Tell your brother to be on time from here on out.” 

Hyejin simply nodded and pushed open the door to her house. It wasn’t locked. 

With a final glance at the front door Wooyoung worryingly ran a hand through his hair. It came away dry. Hyejin’s backpack lay forgotten on the welcome mat, so wet from using it as a shield, that it was probably ruined. 

They may not have had umbrellas but they made do. 

*

By the time Wooyoung finally made it home the rain had stopped and there were two idiots passed out in his living room, a third idiot doodling penises on their foreheads, and a fourth idiot presumably somewhere still in the apartment. As if he read Wooyoung’s mind, Yeosang looked up from his masterpieces.

“Hongjoong hyung passed out hugging the toilet bowl,” he said as casually as one would state the time. Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“Let me guess these two bromeos,” Wooyoung said, pointing at Mingi and Yunho’s unconscious forms. “And their colourful sidekick showed up pre-intoxicated.”

“That would be one third correct,” Yeosang started, capping his marker and walking away from the lumps on the sofa. “Joong was blasted when he got here, but Mingi and Yunho found a new friend.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow in question.

“One of the guys at Mingi’s fitness centre sold them weed gummies,” Yeosang sighed. 

“Obviously they didn’t handle it very well,” Wooyoung said, stepping over Yunho’s sprawled out leg, and lifting his arm up just to drop it again for fun. The tall brunet didn’t stir. 

“I had like 5 and I’m fine,” Yeosang shrugged. 

“That’s because you’re a drug addict,” Wooyoung teased. “Please tell me you didn’t give any to Hongjoong Hyung-”

“Oh my god no,” Yeosang replied. “I may be dumb but I’m not stupid.”

They both laughed and Wooyoung headed straight to bed, forgoing the shower he wanted to take because one of his best friends was napping in the bathroom. Before he got too far Yeosang called after him.

“Wooyoung, are you alright?” 

The concern in Yeosang’s voice was a little unusual which is why Wooyoung put more effort into making his response sound genuine. 

“I’m fine, just tired.”

But Wooyoung wasn’t fine because it seemed like Hyejin and her family might not be fine either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help wanted: someone to pester me on Twitter (@hongseoks_toe) every couple of days so I don't abandon this fic. Stan Twitter TERRIFIES me but I made this account just to make friends so please come talk to me! Also, I'm looking for a beta reader if anyone is interested.


	2. Love at First Gag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter at the same time as the first chapter so I guess I'll post them together.

Hongjoong woke up with a crick in his neck. Somehow in the middle of the night he had moved from hunched over the toilet bowl to lying dead like a fish in the bathtub. Regardless of how he got there, the fiery red head was _not_ comfortable. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty,” a voice greeted from within the bathroom. 

Hongjoong risked a quick glance past the shower curtain only to be met with Mingi’s blank stare. And he was on the toilet. Hongjoong looked away. 

“Dude!” the eldest cried. “Please tell me you’re not taking a shit in here.” 

“Well, where else would he do it?” a third voice piqued up, sounding just a little distorted.

“Jesus, are we all in here?” Hongjoong grumbled reaching his hand to peel back the curtain again because where on earth did that voice come from?

“Nope. Wooyoung is still in bed,” a fourth voice resounded clear as day. 

When Hongjoong finally gazed beyond the shower curtain he was floored. 

Yeosang’s head poked through the open door. Yunho was brushing his teeth at the sink. Mingi was taking a shit. Practically the whole gang was here.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Hongjoong prefaced right before vomiting over the side of the tub. All three of his friends scrunched their noses. 

“Last person to the kitchen takes Hongjoong Hyung to emerge,” Yeosang said before darting out of the bathroom doorway giggling. Yunho quickly spit in the sink and ran after him, toothbrush still in hand. 

“No fair guys!” Mingi called from the toilet. 

“Shitters are quitters,” Yunho laughed back from the kitchen. 

*

If someone were to have asked Hongjoong how he predicted his morning would go he would've said literally anything else. But alas here he was squeezed onto the back of Mingi’s bicycle, barf bucket in hand, trying his damndest to keep some semblance of balance as Mingi hit every single bump in the road on the way to the ER.

“I don’t see why Yunho wouldn't let you borrow his car,” Hongjoong mumbled trying to keep the rising bile from coming up his throat. 

“He said something about not wanting you to destroy the upholstery,” Mingi shouted back. He didn’t need to shout, they were on a bicycle going 10 miles per hour not a fucking roller coaster. Hongjoong’s head pounded.

When they got to the ER Mingi dropped Hongjoong off at the doors and went to find somewhere to lock his bike. How considerate. 

The red head stumbled through the doors right into the arms of an unexpecting stranger. Their grip was firm and grounding and they smelt _so fucking_ good. Just beyond the antibacterial stench that all hospital people reeked of, the stranger smelled like honey. Hongjoong looked up into the most beautiful pair of sparkling eyes and then-

He gagged. 

“Not the most confidence inspiring greeting I’ve ever received,” the stranger chuckled and _oh my god_ his smile was heavenly. Hongjoong wanted to respond, truly, but instead of words coming up his throat, he puked. Right on the man's shoes.

Luckily for Hongjoong’s pride, he blacked out and fell back into the stranger’s arms. 

*

Much to the red head’s disappointment, he woke up to Mingi’s doe eyed face hovering just a little too close. He pushed his friend away with a palm to the visage, earning a grunt of protest from the taller of the two. 

“I’m not going home on your stupid bicycle,” Hongjoong complained rolling his eyes and ignoring his friend’s pained cry as he nearly doubled off the chair. He didn’t shove Mingi _that_ hard. 

“You shouldn’t be going home _at all_ quite yet,” that same smooth voice from before argued from the corner of the hospital room. His back was turned but Hongjoong would recognize that timbre anywhere. He may have only met the man like an hour ago, but the tiny music producer was convinced he was already in love. 

Mingi caught his eye and made a very inappropriate gesture before the doctor turned around, and he dropped his hands like they caught fire. The sexy doctor didn’t seem to notice. 

“I’ve already pumped your stomach but I think we should keep you here for another hour or so, just for monitoring,” he stated, looking incredibly professional with a clipboard in his hands. _Hot_.

“You can monitor me all you want,” Hongjoong mumbled under his breath.

“Sorry?” the doctor asked, quirking a brow. Even that was somehow sexy. 

“Nothing,” Hongjoong replied looking everywhere but the doctor's gaze. From the corner of his eye, he caught Mingi smirking but he ignored it. “Thank you for everything, doctor.”

“Oh,” the dark haired man smiled, “I’m not technically a doctor _quite_ yet.”

Mingi panicked, “Please tell me you actually work here-”

The honey scented adonis laughed and the angels sang. Hongjoong was almost positive he was still drunk. 

“Yes, I do actually work here,” he glanced at Hongjoong and smiled reassuringly. “I’m a med student but I live in residency here at the ER.” 

“Oh,” the bed ridden man replied dumbly. “Cool.”

“Yeah, cool…” Mingi teased. The med student ignored him. 

“My name is Park Seonghwa by the way,” he added. 

“Kim Hongjoong,” the red head introduced himself as well. 

“I know,” Seonghwa replied a little too quickly. “It’s on your papers,” he spluttered. 

Mingi cleared his throat but not before Hongjoong noticed the tiny blush lining Seonghwa’s cheeks. He smiled down at his hands.

“Well, I’ll leave you to rest now,” Seonghwa said with a little wave. “Another nurse will come let you know when you can sign yourself out.” 

Before Hongjoong could even open his mouth to protest Seonghwa’s departure, the dark haired man was already gone.

“Not a word,” Hongjoong spat. Mingi just giggled. 

*

Going home was significantly less troublesome than getting there, perhaps because Hongjoong was alcohol poisoning free or perhaps because he didn’t have to ride that damn bike. Yunho had benevolently decided to pick them up now that there was no danger to his upholstery, but when the tallest of their friend group arrived in his rather fancy luxury car and Mingi couldn’t fit his bike in the trunk, they all laughed. Well, everyone except Mingi. 

“Karma’s a bitch,” Hongjoong sang. 

Mingi scowled at his traitorous so called best friends and fastened his bike helmet. The slightly less vibrant red head flipped them off as he cycled away. Yeosang giggled. Wooyoung cackled. Yunho almost choked on his laughter. Odds are the tall brunet would have to sleep with one eye open tonight, but it was totally worth it. 

*

“Are you sure you don’t want to hang out here today?” Hongjoong asked Yunho when they arrived at his and Mingi's shared apartment complex. 

“Eh, it’s okay,” Yunho shrugged. “We’ve been best friends for like seven years. Mingi can’t _truly_ get mad at me.” 

“And you need to take us home,” Wooyoung added. 

“God yes please get me home,” Yeosang cried, flinging himself across Wooyoung’s lap dramatically. “I think I’m still a little high and I’d like to vibe in peace.” 

“There’s no way you’re still high-”

“Maybe I just want to go home and do it again-”

“That’s not-”

Hongjoong ignored Wooyoung and Yeosang’s bickering and instead thanked Yunho for the ride one more time. With a little wave strangely reminiscent of Seonghwa’s, the red head ducked into his building and disappeared into the elevator.

After the friday night he had, Hongjoong was just glad it was the weekend.


	3. Sticks and Stoners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out, that first week of uni was a nightmare ~(>_<~) Anyway, this chapter is a little bit longer than usual and the next one is already well on it's way so hopefully updates will be more regular. Thanks for your patience everyone!

_Two weeks._ Yeosang was genuinely surprised that he managed to make it two weeks into the semester before this happened. 

“Whore,” the young man scoffed. Yeosang simply rolled his eyes at the meathead standing directly in his light. The manchild continued, puffing up his chest in a pathetic attempt at intimidation, “You weren’t saying no when I fucked you at that party last weekend.” 

“I told you,” Yeosang sighed, subtly gathering his books into his bag in case things went south. “It was a one time thing.”

“Are you playing hard to get with me,” the jock raised his voice. Next thing Yeosang knew, there was an iron grip on his wrist and he couldn’t breathe. The university student was never claustrophobic, especially since he could typically hold his own in a fight, but going up against an ape in a football jersey - the odds were not in his favour. 

“That would require me to be interested in you,” Yeosang let out an airy laugh, trying to stay calm. Sure it would be risky, but the shorter blond was not about to let the other push him around without making a few jabs of his own, so he continued,“Also, I’m not interested in guys with tiny brains and even tinier dicks-” 

The taller man’s grip tightened, and Yeosang squirmed. He was trapped. 

"Hey,” a voice called from behind Yeosang. Distracted by the strangers' call, the jock loosened his grip ever so slightly, and Yeosang took the opportunity to slip his arm away. He rubbed his reddened wrist. Without even bothering to look behind to see who called out, Yeosang grabbed his messenger bag off the picnic table and tried to make a break for it. He didn’t get far. 

"Not so fast,” the peabrain man grunted, shooting out his beefy arm and grabbing the smaller by his shirt collar. Suddenly, Yeosang heard a deafening crack and as quick as the jock grabbed him, he let go. 

“What the fuck man,” ape boy cried. Yeosang, not realizing that he had closed his eyes, pried them open only to see his ex-hookup moving his hand to catch the blood falling from his nose. “You punched me!” 

“Ah sorry, arm spasm,” replied the same unfamiliar voice from before. Yeosang looked up to the owner of the voice and caught sight of an unfamiliar man shaking out his left arm. The stranger in front of him was wearing basketball shorts and his chocolate brown hair glistened with a bit of sweat. He had a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder and a basketball cradled under his right arm, almost as if he had come straight from the court. His knuckles had a couple specks of blood on them and he was sporting the smallest of smirks, but otherwise the stranger looked about as threatening as a bunny. 

“You’re gonna regret that,” meathead growled, lunging towards the handsome stranger, fists high. Without even a moment's hesitation, the brunet basketball player swung his left fist again. The sheer impact of his punch caused the tallest of the trio to fall flat on his ass and cry out. 

“Your boyfriend is a psycho,” meathead stuttered as he tried to pull himself back up. His legs gave out and he fell back on the ground. 

“Damn right I am,” the basketball player chuckled as he wiped his bloody knuckles on his shorts. None of the blood was his own. “Now, leave him alone or next time I won’t be so nice.” 

Peabrain ape boy scurried off without another word and Yeosang was left staring at the brunet with an open mouth. 

“No need to thank me,” he shrugged, shoving his basketball into his duffel bag. 

Yeosang sharpened his gaze and scoffed, “What the hell was that?” 

“Oh, the boyfriend thing?” he lifted his gaze to meet Yeosang’s and smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, I figured it was the best way to get him to leave you alone.”

“I didn’t need your help,” the blond adjusted his bag and spun towards the university building on his heels. If there was one thing Yeosang was sure of, it was that he _detested_ owing people. Although the stranger didn’t look very smug, the graphic design major wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly asked for something in return- 

“Wait!”

Of course.

“Look,” Yeosang whipped back around and sighed. “I could’ve handled it on my own, but I guess I owe you a thank you anyway,” he paused before continuing. “But that's _all_ I owe you. I’m not going to sleep with you-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” basketball boy laughed, raising his hands in mock defense. Yeosang flinched. He lowered his hands immediately. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“Fine,” Yeosang retorted, impatiently tapping his foot on the pavement. “I’ll humour you. What were you going to ask?”

“I’m taking a photography course.”

“So?” Yeosang raised a brow at the other. 

“So,” he began. “I have this assignment where I have to make a portfolio of another student, and you look like you photograph well.” He looked genuine in his inquiry, no ulterior motives to be found in his eyes, but Yeosang frowned regardless.

“As far as pickup acts go, this one is not very creative,” Yeosang responded. 

The other boy spluttered, “I’m not hitting on you, I swear!” 

Funnily enough, Yeosang kind of believed him. That didn’t mean he was going to agree.

“You didn’t even ask me my name,” the blond supplied after a long moment of silence, deciding to continue running with his prior narrative. 

“Fine, what’s your name?” the basketball player conceded. 

“I don’t want to tell you,” Yeosang replied smugly. 

“Jongho.”

Yeosang furrowed his brows, “My name isn't Jongho.”

“No, but mine is,” the boy, now dubbed Jongho, explained. 

The blond almost laughed, but he caught himself before the corners of his mouth could twist upwards, “You are so fucking weird.”

“In an endearing way, right?” Jongho tilted his head and smiled hopefully. 

“No.”

“Oh,” he deflated at the blunt rejection. 

“Goodbye, Jongho,” Yeosang supplied simply before walking away and leaving a rather confused photography student in his wake. 

*

“I met the weirdest kid today-” Yeosang cut himself off when he noticed that neither of his companions were paying any attention to him. Hongjoong was gazing longingly out the cafe window towards the hospital across the street, and Wooyoung was burning holes into his coffee. “Are either of you listening to me?”

Wooyoung snapped up his gaze from the drink to throw his best friend an apologetic smile. He elbowed their oldest friend in the ribs which prompted Hongjoong to mutter a quiet apology.

“What’s up with you two lately?” Yeosang inquired, accepting the fact that he wouldn’t be telling his story today. Some things were just more important than weird kids who threw punches for strangers. 

Hongjoong, desperate to rant about “the love of his life”, didn’t hesitate to tell Yeosang all about the hot doctor he met on his trip to the hospital last saturday, conveniently including every tiny detail except his name. 

“Huh,” Wooyoung frowned. “I have a cousin who works at the hospital and you pretty much described him to a T.”

“No, no, no,” Hongjoong interjected. “I said he was _hot_. There’s no way he came from the same gene pool as you.” 

Wooyoung smacked him upside the head. 

“Elder abuse!” Hongjoong whined, rubbing at the spot where Wooyoung hit him. It probably wouldn’t even leave a mark, the oldest was just a drama queen - such was evident in the way he professed his undying love for a complete stranger. 

“Fine,” Yeosang huffed. “Don’t tell us his name.” He paused, “But at least stop screeching that you love him. Just admit you’re horny and move on.” 

Hongjoong frowned, “Where’s your sense of romance, Yeosang?”

“Romance is dead.” the blond deadpanned. 

“Wow, real bummer,” Wooyoung whistled. Yeosang just shrugged. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t believe in love, he’d just never seen a romance that lasted.

“Alright, so Yeosang’s depressing life view aside,” Hongjoong swallowed as Yeosang shot him a glare. He gulped and continued, “I actually am super into him. Like I want more than just a hookup, y’know?” 

Wooyoung sighed, “I wish my problem was as warm and fuzzy as yours.”

Two sets of worried eyes turned towards their youngest friend. The dance instructor continued to speak, prompted by his friend’s concern, “I’m worried about this little girl in one of my classes.”

Wooyoung told his friends all about finding Hyejin alone in the rain, getting sent to voicemail, walking her home, and the unlocked door, barely taking a moment to breathe as it all tumbled out. Apparently it was something he needed to get off his chest. 

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Yeosang supplied, in a last ditch effort to console his friend. 

“Maybe,” his shoulders sagged. “But I’m still worried about her. She comes back for another lesson tonight, so we’ll see how it goes.” 

All three boys left the coffee shop shortly after, with heavy hearts.

*

Yeosang was at home, laying in bed staring at the ceiling when his phone went off.

_[Yunhoe]_

_I need your help_

_[Yunhoe]_

_it’s urgent_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_what_

_[Yunhoe]_

_it’s almost our bro-versary_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_what the fuck_

_[Yunhoe]_

_me and mingi_

_[Yunhoe]_

_we’ve been best friends for 7 years now_

_[Yunhoe]_

_we need to celebrate_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_and youre telling me this why??_

_[Yunhoe]_

_because I need you to make a graphic for our bro-versary card_

_[Yunhoe]_

_preferably one of me and mingi on the back of a horse_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_why am i even friends with you 2_

_[Yunhoe]_

_please_

_[Yunhoe]_

_i’ll do anything_ _🥺_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_fine_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_but get me the number of mingi’s weed gummy guy_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_there’s no way i’m doing this sober_

_[Yunhoe]_

_(′ꈍ∀ꈍ‵)_

_[Yunhoe]_

_thank u_

_[Yunhoe]_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx_

_[Yunhoe]_

_here u go_

Yeosang typed the number into his phone and composed a quick text.

_[Skater Bitch]_

_hey i’m mingi’s friend_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_those gummies you hooked him up with_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_can i get some?_

_[Unknown]_

_Sure_

_[Unknown]_

_How many do you want?_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_as many as it will take me to forget_

_[Unknown]_

_Forget what?_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_drawing mingi and his ‘friend’ on a horse_

_[Unknown]_

_(^ц^ )_

_[Unknown]_

_There’s not enough drugs in the world_

_[Unknown]_

_Come to the fitness centre on campus and ask for Jongho_

_[Unknown]_

_You can find me there_

Yeosang froze. Thousands of people went to that university. There had to be more than one Jongho on campus. No way was it the same kid he met earlier that day.

_[Unknown]_

_Hello??_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_sorry_

_[Skater Bitch]_

_i’ll be there_


	4. All Bark, No Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay, forgive me for my epic disappearance. My english prof was high key bullying me about my abilities and it made me want to stop writing T_T Jokes on her though, the semester's over and I don't have to deal with her anymore. Hopefully without her crushing my spirit all the time, I'll be more inspired. Anyway, here's chapter four. It's definitely not good enough to make up for a three month hiatus, but I tried...

A whole week had passed since the incident with Hyejin, and Wooyoung was still thinking about it when she came in for her lesson that night. Alone. 

“Did you walk here by yourself?” Wooyoung asked, stretching his neck beyond the entrance to widen his field of view. No matter how hard the man squinted there were no receding backs or flashes of hair to be seen. 

“Yup,” Hyejin said, already shrugging off her jacket, eager to start the lesson and greet her friends. Hyejin was a social butterfly from day one, so this came as no surprise to the dance instructor. 

Before she could get too far, Wooyoung stopped her with a gentle hand on the shoulder. When Hyejin turned around and her inquisitive gaze met his, the twenty one year old took a moment to study her expression. He didn’t really know what he was looking for. His face must’ve betrayed his concern because her eyes all but disappeared when she smiled, “It’s okay teacher, I can walk by myself. It’s not even dark out yet!” 

Seeing the young girl light up so brightly, lifted a massive weight off the dance teacher’s shoulders. He shot back a grin of his own and ruffled her bangs. She huffed, “I’m almost nine, I’m not a little kid anymore.” 

Wooyoung repressed a smile and raised his hands in mock defense, “I never said anything.” The young girl rolled her eyes good naturedly at her teacher and skipped off to her friends.

* 

The lesson whipped by in a blur, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for the lilac haired dancer. When it was so easy to get lost in the music like that, Wooyoung found that his two hour classes felt like mere minutes. It also certainly helped that all of his students were well behaved - which is surprising considering the age group - and they often caught on quick to new choreographies. The young teacher knew a couple colleagues who weren't so lucky, and so he often found himself thankful that he didn’t get stuck with a younger set of kids. As Hyejin had said earlier, she was almost nine, as were the rest of the students in Wooyoung’s class, so they were fairly independent. 

But not independent enough to walk home alone in the dark. 

“You’re still here,” Wooyoung sighed as he tugged on the front doors to make sure they were locked. Hyejin was right there, sitting on the exact same bench as last time, looking up at her teacher with puppy dog eyes. “Your brother forgot you again?”

The annoyance in his voice must’ve been extra clear because Hyejin immediately jumped to her brother’s defence, “He’s very busy. I’m not mad at him.”

“Well,” Wooyoung replied, forcefully shoving the studio keys into his jacket . “I am. Leaving you here is borderline irresponsible.”

The little girl hopped off the bench and took a timid step forward, “I’m scared, teacher.”

Wooyoung’s heart shattered. Before he could even attempt to comfort her, she spoke again, this time, voice breaking, “I was going to walk home by myself, but a stray dog started barking at me, so I ran back here. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Wooyoung interjected. “You did the right thing, Hyejin.” She sniffled and the older continued, “I’ll walk you home again.”

“Thank you, teacher,” she cried, grabbing Wooyoung’s waist in a tight hug. “I’m terrified of dogs! The dark is scary, but dogs are so much worse. I was once bit by a dog you know, maybe that’s why they freak me out-” 

The dance teacher patted his student’s head and she let go, but she continued to ramble as they made their way down the street. Wooyoung smiled, as he listened to the young girl babble on and on about dogs, so enveloped in her own anecdotes that she didn’t even flinch when they walked by the stray. 

*

This time, when the duo arrived at Hyejin’s house, Wooyoung had a plan. “Hyejin, when will your brother be home?” he inquired, eyes darting down the street hoping to catch sight of a silhouette. The street lights flickered but there was nobody else around to see it. The young dancer shrugged in response as she flung open the front door - which was yet again unlocked - and toed off her shoes.

When she noticed that her teacher had yet to budge from his perch outside the door, she spoke up. “Um, do you need to use the washroom or something, teacher?” 

Wooyoung snapped out of his daze and turned towards Hyejin, who was standing in the foyer holding the door open and looking at him with arched brows. “Huh?” he blinked. _Had she said something?_

“Why haven’t you left yet? Do you need to pee?” she sighed, crossing her arms and tapping her socked feet on the frame. “Because if you do, you should probably come in, it’s freezing.”

“Uh, thanks,” he answered, slipping past Hyejin into the foyer. She closed the door behind him and only then, with the relief of the sweet indoors, did Wooyoung realize how chilly it was outside. He pulled his jacket tighter at the loss of warmth that accompanied taking his shoes off.

“Sorry, we don’t have any guest slippers,” Hyejin apologized, picking up a pair of black sandals and nudging them towards her teacher. “You can use these, they’re my brother’s.” 

Wooyoung shook his head. He’d go sock foot on the icy hardwood before he’d step into the literal shoes of an irresponsible prick. Hyejin secretly rolled her eyes as she neatly placed the slippers back by the entrance. 

Walking through the house, the dance teacher kept an eye out for anything suspicious. The place was small, not as small as Wooyoung and Yeosang’s apartment, but far smaller than his family home- not that he’d been back there in the last few years. There was only one level, so he would’ve expected more clutter in the living room, but it was shockingly bare. Aside from a worn out sofa, a tiny TV set, and what looked like a dining table with only two chairs, there wasn’t much to note. The attached kitchen was equally as drab, housing only basic appliances and a coffee maker on the counter by the sink. 

_Did Hyejin really live like this?_

“Are you coming?” Hyejin called when she realized her teacher was no longer trailing behind. Wooyoung shook the thoughts away and followed the youngster down a narrow corridor.

The first door he passed was obviously Hyejin’s room. The walls were lined with idol girl group posters and buried beneath the decor was a thin coat of yellow paint - Hyejin’s favourite colour if her dance clothes were anything to go by. The room was surprisingly tidy for an eight year old, but perhaps it only appeared that way because there wasn’t much inside.

The next room was even more barren, but far from tidy. The walls were dull, still coloured in carpenters brown and there wasn’t a single poster in sight. The clothes strewn about, the unmade bed, the open books and loose papers that covered every surface but the dusty bookcase which instead, harboured dozens of taekwondo trophies - these were the things that brought the room alive.

“My brother’s room is a mess,” Hyejin piqued, slipping the door shut and turning to her teacher. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that,” she laughed before clearing her throat and gesturing to the open door across the hall, “Anyway, there’s the bathroom. I have homework to do so you can let yourself out.”

Before Wooyoung could reply, Hyejin had already disappeared into her room and shut the door. The dance teacher heard giggling from the otherside so he doubted she was doing homework, but whatever was occupying the young girl didn’t particularly matter. All that mattered was that she was occupied. 

Just in case she decided to come out of her room, the lilac haired boy hid in the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror. He looked more tired than usual, in part a result of stressing about Hyejin all week, but also partially accredited to the approaching stress of his birthday. He was turning twenty two in a few weeks and as exciting as that would normally be, Wooyoung couldn’t help but think of his parents every year. He sighed and turned on the tap, letting the cold water run over his hands. After deeming his hideout an appropriate length, Wooyoung turned off the tap and quietly slinked out of the bathroom.

Originally, he had planned to just wait outside but given that the opportunity had presented itself, the dance instructor wandered to the end of the hallway. He had noticed earlier that there was one more door, and it was the only one that was closed. The curiosity was eating him alive so he reached out a hand to open it-

“Hyejin?” the door slammed and a frantic voice startled Wooyoung’s hand off the knob. “Are you in here?” the voice called again, an increasing urgency the longer there was no reply. Hurried footsteps thundered down the corridor and just as Hyejin poked her little head out of her bedroom, the sound of running stopped. A young man, no older than Wooyoung himself, whipped around the corner and rushed over to Hyejin. He was slightly taller than the lilac haired man, but something about his demeanor made him seem so… small.

“Thank god you made it home safe,” he started fussing over the young girl. After realizing that there wasn’t a single hair out of place on her head, his shoulders sagged and his expression morphed from fear to guilt, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up, things ran longer than they were supposed to.” 

“It’s okay, teacher walked me home again,” she noticed her instructor at the end of the hallway and shot him a smile. At Hyejin’s glance, the young man finally noticed the others presence and Wooyoung was reeling - not in the cute fluffy romance kind of way, more so in the completely furious kind of way. 

“Glad to see you actually care what happens to her,” he seethed, clenching his fists and taking a few steps closer. “I was starting to think you didn’t.” 

“I think you should go to your room for a minute,” Hyejin’s brother gently ushered her back inside then turned to Wooyoung as soon as the door clicked shut. “Look-”

“Save it,” the shorter of the two snapped. “Your sister is eight fucking years old. There is no possible excuse you could tell me that would justify leaving a _child_ to walk the streets of Seoul, alone, at night,” he paused before continuing. “More than once!” 

Out of all the responses in the world, the one Wooyoung least expected to hear slipped from the other’s mouth, barely louder than a whisper, “I know.” 

“What did you just say?” the dance instructor thought he misheard. Hyejin’s brother slowly looked up from the ground and _oh lord_ , were those tears building in his eyes?

“I said, I know,” he choked, breaking out into a sob. The young man’s wobbly legs gave out and he slumped onto the floor, head in hands. Wooyoung cautioned a step closer but was startled back by a particularly loud cry, “I’m such a failure.”

When Wooyoung found Hyejin outside the dance studio that evening, he expected a lot different from this confrontation - some yelling, some angry glares, at worst a small physical altercation - but here he was, standing in a stranger's home, a grown man completely crumbling four feet away from him. Wooyoung always prided himself on knowing how to relieve tension in any type of awkward situation, but this was somehow different. 

“Um-” he cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

When Hyejin’s brother snapped up his head, Wooyoung could nearly see his reflection in the glassiness of this stranger’s red rimmed eyes. “Thank you,” he spluttered, trying to raise himself from the ground on wobbly legs. The shorter man reached out a hand to help him up, only to find that Hyejin’s brother had an unexpectedly tight grip, despite his fragile state. “You must be Wooyoung-ssi?” he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes and straightening his shoulders. He forced a smile, “I’m San, Hyejin’s brother.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliff hanger, but I felt the best way to get back on the grind would be to start fresh in a new chapter. Next chapter will be a continuation of this, just needed to break it up. Anyway, see you soon!


End file.
